Press Play
by DoYouReallySeeMe
Summary: So yeah. This is the story of how I died. Or will die. Whatever. But, this is the story of how each of you played a part in it. And don't worry, you did. You all played your parts in it, in the end.
1. Part the First

**Title:** [Press Play]

**Summary:** So yeah. This is the story of how I died. Or will die. Whatever. But, this is the story of how each of you played a part in it. And don't worry, all of you did. You all played your parts in it, in the end.

**Pairings:** Stiles/Derek

**Warnings:** Inspired heavily by Jay Asher's Thirteen Reasons Why (seriously a fantastic book. Go. Read. Now). Characters behaviors will differ from the television show. Timeline and events have changed: pack is complete, season two is ignored, Stiles is dead etc. Implied slash (meaning a male/male relationship). Possible hint of dark-slash. Romantic and possible sexual relationships between an underaged teenager and an adult. Dominant and submissive elements. Angst. Drama. Romance. Definitely dark elements to the plot. Mature Scenes. Heterosexual Relationships. Homosexual Relationships. Implied thoughts of suicide. Death. Triggering. Werewolves. Pack dynamics. Drabble-esk.

**Chapters: **5/?

**BETA:** This story is currently un-BETA'ed, I apologize in advance for any grammatical mistakes and spelling mishaps, if anyone's interested in helping me out feel free to PM me. Thank you.

**Disclaimer:** I claim no ownership over Jeff Davis' television series adaptation of _Teen Wolf_ or Jay Asher's novel _Thirteen Reasons Why_; I own nothing of either of these books or television series or any of its syndicated characters; I claim no rights over any original plot points. I do own the following story and have used characters from the prementioned books to create the world they live in. I gain no profit from writing this, but reviews are always welcomed.

* * *

_"In the end, it all comes back to you. You protect them [your pack], you love them, you live for them, and someday, you die. That's what it means, to be what we are [to be Alpha]. It's lonely. It's impossible. It's all-consuming."  
"It is what it is."  
- _Jennifer Lynn Barnes, Trial by Fire

* * *

_Chapter One; Part the First._

The day itself was grey and bitter cold, and the wolves sat huddled together on an old mattress with a fading scent. The Alpha, a Hale and the last son of his line, sat beneath the locked window and held a knee to his chest so he could rest his forehead against it and close his eyes. The red had not yet faded. The pack, dogs as the hunters liked to called them, whined and cried miserably on the bed as the wind and rain snapped against the branches of the trees outside and cast moving shadows of monsters across the walls. The house was otherwise silent. But it was unkempt, a mess. Too dark and too cold and too quite in the wake of Stiles' missing presence. The house, unheated as it was, was too cold for man or beast, the Sherriff having drunkenly left for work some hours ago, but here they sat. Together. Cold. Alone. _Broken_.

There are two human girls sitting across the room, huddled together with their hands clasped and half asleep. One is the daughter of a hunter, and the other is a girl who carries a rare gene that makes her immune to the physical attacks of supernatural creatures but venerable to magic. The girl with red hair, Lydia, lays her head on her friends shoulder and closes her eyes. She's pale from her time hospitalized but she'd always been fair skinned, and against her smooth white skin her hair looks like blood draped over her shoulder and spread across her chest. It reminds them all so shockingly of blood the same colour that it soon becomes unbearable to look upon. But Allison ignores this, uncaring, and plays with the ends of her friends red hair as she leans back against the wall with closed eyes. They don't say anything to the rest of the room, not even to join in with the soft mutterings that come and go.

Outside the wind howls angrily.

Across from where the two human girls sit a boy hides in the shadows with the glowing eyes of a wolf. Scott, the first bitten wolf of Beacon Hills but not the First Bitten of _this_ Alpha, might have wept, but there were no tears left in him. He does whine, heartbroken with his head clasped in clawed hands, and Isaac mimics it from where he lays on the bed with Eric and Boyd curled around him, chasing a scent that's no longer there. "There's a file here called _Fen'rir_ but it's an MP4 file and it's – an hour and some long." Danny, a human who spent a summer fulfilling a court order for community service after getting caught hacking into CSI national security files, frowns at the computer. Next to him a wolf with the glowing blue eyes of a First Bitten wolf frowns. "It doesn't make any sense." Danny runs a hand over his face. "Do you know what it is Scott?"

"No," the shadows hide Scott's eyes as he looks out at them, but they can see him as he cocks his head to the side like he's thinking hard. "I've never heard of it before. But, maybe it was a show or, or something he likes – he's always going on about Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles and em, M-Misha Collins?" They can't see Scott's face but they know he's frowning.

Lydia hums, raising her head from Allison's shoulder. "Well, according to Norse mythology Fenrir is a wolflike monster. A son of Loki and Angerboda. I think there's a prophecy written about him. He's chained by Gleipnir, but he's destined to be released at Ragnarok to eat Odin and to be killed by Vidar." Lydia says, her eyes tired but awake and staring at what she can see of the computer screen over Danny's shoulder. There's a moment of silence, shocked in a familiar way whenever Lydia decides to show how smart she really is before; "Fenrir…he's a Harry Potter character as well isn't he?" Scott asks. "Fenrir Greyback. He's the werewolf that bites Remus when he's a kid, right. Right?" Scott asks looking around widely, and Lydia closes her eyes on a sigh looking very much like she would like to roll her eyes or slap him or possibly do both but she doesn't, she just nods to shows she agrees.

"Fenrir the werewolf." Jackson says with something desperate shinning in his glowing blue eyes, because yes he was an arrogant boy who would want for nothing, but he was also a boy who was feeling the lost of a friend. "Coincidence?"

"Stiles doesn't believe in coincidence." Eric whispers. Fact. Because it is, they all know it.

"Play it." Red eyes watch them, watch as Danny hesitates before with a quiet click of a computer mouse on a file that was misspelled and too long to be right, a voice fills the silence through the speakers that was, as always, larger than life.

[_play_]

When the video starts to play there's nothing, just a flat black colour and a small flashing sign center screen signaling a buffering file. It's an empty colour, two-dimensional and completely useless. Someone in the back of the room grunts, disappointed and Derek, the Alpha, opens his mouth to tell Danny to shut the damn thing off. It's just another dead-end, another useless thing that offers them no answers. He wants to cry in frustration, but before he can say the words they become caught in his throat as the video stops buffering and the flat black colour of the screen moves and shifts and morphs from black to reds and pinks and flesh and fingers, long skinny fingers and pale hands and a familiar scar on the inside wrist that retracts from the camera and then the boy they know so well and yet not at all is sitting down in front of them. He lacks his usual smile, but he's beautiful. And it hurts, to see him like this. There's a gasp from one of the human girls across the room. A growl from one of the wolf boys sitting on the bed. And wide red eyes from the Alpha sitting on the floor underneath the window.

On the other side of the screen the boy sits with amber eyes cast down and a frown marring the lines of his brow and mouth. He doesn't speak yet but neither does he sit still. He plays with his hands just out of the cameras view, he lowers one shoulder and then rolls the other, he scratches the skin of his neck leaving a red mark that draws the wolves attention to it even as he drops his hand; he crinkles his nose twice. Even now he's never still. "_Hi_." He's wearing a familiar band shirt on the other side of the screen; the material is old and thinning, worn out and comfortable looking with a small tear near to the collarbone. There's peeling lettering and graphics that aren't fully visible because of the angle of the camera but they know it's there just out of sight anyway. They don't need to see it for it to be fresh in their minds; they'd seen him wearing it two nights ago after all. "_I really hope you find this okay_." He says, eyes dark but earnest as he speaks. "_Scott I mean, or – or Danny_," he shakes his head looking unsure, "_I don't want my dad to find it, he can't, he wouldn't understand. I hope it's you, the pack, that, find it first, I – I need to –_" and he stops, looking so terribly frustrated as he runs hands and nails over the shaved hair of his head, as if the words he defended himself with had failed him. He lets out a stuttering breath and says; "_I'm not making any sense._" But it's not meant for them.

"Stiles –" someone starts to say but they're hushed by three different voices and growled at by the Alpha.

"_Okay_." Stiles run hands down his face and blinks rapidly for a moment, like he's trying to wake himself up. "_Okay. Lets start again_." A pause, hardly worth noting but they do anyway. "_I'm hoping someone from the pack will find this and watch it. I don't want my dad or some doctor or police officer to watch it so if you're not pack then kindly fuck off now_." He smiles, and it's not nice nor is it warm or anything that they would normally relate to the Stiles they know – it's all sharp edges and dangerous intent. It's ironically wolf-like. The Stiles on the other side of the screen waits for a few moments and they wait with him until he starts to talk again, smile no longer in place. "_I'm sorry_." He says, amiss much confusion. "_I'm sorry, for this. For_." A deep breath and a shaky exhale. "_Suicide. My suicide. This. This is my suicide note_." He says, "_because that's why we're all here. Why you're watching this. The only reason you'll ever watch this is if I succeed, right?_" Someone sobs, but no one tries to hush them this time. "_So I'm sorry. I'm sorry because I know this isn't fair, but I tried to get better on my own you know? I'd done it before, gotten better I mean. But. This time. I can't. I tried but I can't and I'm so s-so sorry."_

[_pause_]

There's a shaking hand, and it's Danny with dark shadows under his eyes, like he's been punched in the face, and there's tears shinning in his eyes. It's his hand that pauses the video, leaving Stiles frozen and looking out at them with such a great sadness that Erica starts to cry into Boyd's shoulder across the room. "I can't watch this." Danny says, pushing away from the computer desk and standing up so suddenly that his chair topples over. He's shaking all over now. "I can't. Don't make me."

"Danny."

"No."

"But Danny –"

"No!"

"Danny. He's saying goodbye." Scott whispers, brown eyes pleading and swollen from too many tears. He shakes his head and whispers two words. "Don't leave."

[_play_]

"_I tried to do it once before you know._" Stiles continues to say after Danny clicks play again, amber eyes looking down at his hands that they can't see. "_It was just after the Kanima attack in the garage. And yeah Jo was an arse who liked to overcharge innocent high schoolers, but…but no one should die like that_." Stiles smiles as if he can see Jackson's flinch. "_I don't blame Jackson, not anymore, but it still happened. That was something no one seemed to remember. It still happened. I still watched it. Paralyzed and useless and feeling like I was in the middle of a panic attack and I couldn't breathe. I was convinced I was next. I was convinced I was going to die and I couldn't even move my little finger to press call. To call my dad, or to call for help. Anything. And. And after…I – I couldn't deal with it so I took some of my dad's old antidepressants meds he'd left in the cupboard downstairs and then I took some of my Adderall prescription and some of my mom's old chemo meds and – and a load of shit I really shouldn't have had but I did. I had them, so I took them and put them in a glass and then got another glass with water and locked my bathroom door and sat on the floor for three hours." _Stiles, a boy they wonder if they ever really knew, looks up at them and frowns. He shakes his head and says; "_I couldn't do it_."

"Good." Lydia, a girl Stiles had once professed to love in front of the entire school during lunch, says with a nod. She frowns, her pretty face twisted in distress and she looks to be holding back tears or angry words but she just blinks them away and continues to watch Stiles on the video.

"_I wanted to. I wanted to so badly. And it made me so angry that I couldn't. I – I got pretty bad, for a while." _No one looks away from the screen, but they all know what he means. They remember how short tempered he'd been recently and how bitter his scent had turned in the last few months. Guilt fills the room, and its stale on the air between them. "_I tried to talk to you about it_." Stiles says and Scott rears back as if Stiles had physically slapped him, as if that was purposely said towards him and only him; as if his name was attached to the end of that sentence. "_I tried talking to Lydia first, we were sitting in a small café waiting for the Library to open and I – I just wanted to hear an honest answer. Even if she'd been dismissive afterwards and pretend to not know my name when we got back to school. I knew she'd be honest, because even if she acts the queen bitch Lydia Martin never actually lies._"A single tear drops from Lydia's eyelashes and falls to her cheek. "_I don't even know what I would have said. 'How did you do it?' maybe. 'How did you move on after Peter?' or, or 'is it all an act, because I thought I was pretty good as seeing through your masks and I want to believe that you're better because then maybe I can get better too'. But. I never actually said the words. She got a call and then Jackson was missing and Allison was in hospital and everything went to shit again." _A snort. "_Of course everything went to shit again._"

"_Fucking witches_."

"_Fucking witches, man."_ Stiles whispers and Scott smiles even as he cries. "_I tried talking to Scott, but how could I say this to him? I still don't even have the words. And he's so focused on Allison he forgets the rest of us are involved in this werewolf mess as well. Don't get me wrong, I love the guy like a brother, but fuck." _Stiles' face is red as he cries, and he lowers his head into his hands and then – the video cuts off. There's a moment of white noise and a blank screen and white noise and it happens so quickly that there's no time to ask what's happening before the picture returns and Stiles is back to sitting in front of them, no longer crying but with red eyes all the same. "_I realized eventually the reason I couldn't do it – with the pills in the bathroom I mean. I couldn't do it because I hadn't said goodbye. I know, it sounds stupid. But It's something I needed to do. To explain. And. I remember what it was like when my mom died, and there just wasn't enough time for us to actually say a proper goodbye, and – there were so many thing that I just didn't say. I should have. I should have said them but I didn't get the chance, so this time I'm going to say everything I never could before."_ Stiles smiles at them, but it's not right. It's just – wrong. It's wrong.

"_So, I've been trying to think of how to explain this to you. And, well I don't think any of you will remember this, but we were given a booklist to read over summer in our junior year. One of the books was called 'Thirteen Reasons Why' by an amazing author called Jay Asher and, well, I sort of feel in love with it back when I read it for the first time. I've read it a few times since and when I –_" a pause, "_when I was looking for how I was going to do this I thought it was ingenious. A perfect way to say goodbye._" Stiles swallows, and it looks painful by the wince that follows but he falls straight back into talking again, as always. "_I'm not so sure now, but I won't back out either. I can't._" He says, and there's something desperate in his eyes as he continues to speak. "_So I decided I wanted to do something similar; but a tape seemed so impersonal, and creating a series of tapes for each of you to be listened to individually? I think we all know I could do it but I don't have the attention span or patience to want to. So I'm just going to film one video for all of you, because I figure you'll just show each other them all anyway so what's the point?_" He asks, snorting once as if he find the situation funny as hell and they're all watching the small screen of the computer in Stiles' bedroom with varying looks of horror on their faces. "_And yeah. A video. Not a tape. I don't know man, it just seemed right. I'd like to think I'm not as dramatic as Hannah Baker, but then maybe I am as dramatic as her if I'm actually going to go through with this all. Who knows? But yeah, Hannah's a bit of a dramatic bitch who ruins more than a few lives but then again the people in her life where arseholes anyway. And you guys aren't arseholes. Well, mostly you aren't. But yeah – off point, sorry._" He sighs. "_Shit. Anyway. This, this is me trying to say goodbye, and please, please don't turn me off again. It's my turn to talk and this time you can't brush me off._" A smile, sad and heartbroken. "_So yeah. This is the story of how I died. Or will die. Whatever. But, this is the story of how each of you played a part in it. And don't worry, all of you did. You all played your parts in it, in the end._"

[_pause_]

* * *

Just a little drabble, but I do apologise for…_whatever the hell this is_.


	2. Part the Second

_"I've fallen in love with you. I love you even now when you sit before me with the eyes of a wolf. So take pity upon the fool I have become. I forgot it was only a bargain between us."  
_- Ronda Thompson, The Untamed One

* * *

_Chapter Two; Part the Second._

[_pause_]

Danny pauses the video again and his hand's not quite steady on the mouse of the computer but it's not shaking as badly as before either. His next exhale comes out shaken and wreaked. Red eyes watch from the floor and the Alpha, Derek, he's not sure if it's anger causing Danny's shoulders to hunch and tense or if it's fear. Fear smells sweat and sticky and it's heavy in the room right at that moment. There's a moment where no one talks, where they hardly dare to breathe. And all Derek can hear are the heartbeats of his pack. He listens as each one begins to escalate, the sound completely deafening in the silence of the small room; they work blood around their bodies harder and faster and he wonders if their hearts hurt as much as his own as he stares into the amber eyes of the boy on the other side of the frozen screen.

What have they done?

"What does – what does he mean?" It's a question, or at least it sounds like a question, but it's asked in more of a shout so Derek isn't completely sure. "What does '_you all played your part in it_' even fucking mean? What – does he, does he mean that, that it's all our fault? That we–" _killed him?_ "–how could he think that? How could he say that and let us think – for even a moment, that we, that we…" Erica is clearly hysterical, or bordering on it, but Derek doesn't move to comfort her. No one does. Or maybe they can't. They're all still too shocked or still feeling too raw. Maybe. Probably. (Isaac cries next to her and Boyd stares blindly ahead, they're useless in that moment to offer her any comfort but Derek wonders if she would even accept it if they tried.)

Derek says nothing. He just. Sits there.

(Erica's voice is too high and it hurts his ears as she continues to rant out her fears and her feelings and her heart is jackhammering in loud, furious _thump-thumpthump-thumpthump_ beats under her ribs. Her chest is heaving under the strain of her hysteria and Derek isn't surprised when she starts crying in ugly, fat tears. He wonders if it hurts, to cry like that. She's all smeared makeup and half-broken sobs, and she's raising a hand to her mouth in an attempt to smother the sound into her palm, even using teeth more beast than human to bite into the round flesh offered there, but it useless.)

"He never said it was our fault." Scott's voice is quite, a whisper, a denial; heartbroken. Derek wonders if Scott will ever be _not_-heartbroken. There's never been a Scott without a Stiles, or a Stiles without a Scott dragging his feet somewhere close after, not since before he'd known them. Years and years and years before. Before the fire. Before Beacon Hills become a beacon for the supernatural. Before. Just before. He can't imagine a future in which the two boys aren't the missing limbs the other needs. He wonders if either boy can even remember what it's like to suffer through life without a friendship like that. He doubts it, watching as Scott shakes his head slow and jerking and furious and Derek wants so desperately to believe him in that moment. "He said we had a part to play…but he never said it was our fault."

"No," Isaac whispers, voice broken from crying too late into the night. "But it's there, the implication's that–" _that we killed him_. The last is left unsaid but he can see the fear in their eyes and knows they're all thinking the same as Erica hiccups on another sob. Danny presses play without having to asked, but they sit there in silence for near on twenty minutes before he gathers the courage to do so.

[_play_]

"_Now, why would a dead guy lie?_" Stiles previous laughter isn't quite gone from his expression yet, and his lips pull tight as if he's about to laugh again. "_Hey! That almost sounds like a joke; why would a dead guy lie. Answer? Because he can't stand up._" Jackson snorts, a grim looking twist to his lips that might have been a smile. And Derek wonders if he can sit through this video – this, suicide note. He wonders if Stiles will tell them he gave up because he couldn't fight any more, that he couldn't lie to his dad anymore – or that he gave up because they were a bad pack. That he was a bad Alpha. They would understand, because they're all a little (read: a lot) messed up. But he can't understand, not really. And he hates him a little, he hates Stiles a little. Not for feeling so sad but _because he gave up_, because however selfish it is he wonders if he hasn't lost enough and seen and committed enough death already. And Derek thinks he might want to cry, ugly like Erica or silent like Isaac, he doesn't care which. But anything to rid himself of this pressure settling over his heart and gripping it like he has anything left to give.

"_Hannah Baker recorded thirteen tapes, or six tapes with a recording on each side apart from lucky number thirteen but whatever - systematics right? Anyway, a tape for each person that contributed to her suicide. Thirteen stories and thirteen reasons why._" There's no smile as Stiles leans forward in the video to rest his arms on his knees now. They watch as the boy bits his bottom lip and casts his eyes to the side of the camera, watching something they can't see. He seems to be thinking and he looks so unsure and there's a moment where Stiles doesn't smile or talk or cover up his emotions with any of his usual distraction techniques, and he looks so damn tired. So desperately sad. "_I, on the other hand, am a few sort of thirteen, only eleven I'm afraid. I'm not sure what that says about me or Hannah Baker or either of us really but whatever man. Eleven stories, only one video…the wonders of modern technology, right?"_ A snort, "_you'll have to forgive me for the crappy editing, I'm not all here in my head most days I don't think, and editing isn't exactly my er, area of expertise anyway. But what can you do?" _Stiles shakes his head, face angled away from the screen and staring down away from the camera again. "_I have no idea what I'm doing_." It's whispered and not meant for them and they don't understand it, but then the moment passes and Stiles is back, staring into the camera with a careful expression. "_The first part of this story is for Scott–_" and Allison is up and moving across the room to take Scott into her arms before the wolf can cause himself any real damage as he tries to grab at his head with clawed hands. She the daughter of a hunter and she has her own strengths, the wiry muscles of her arms and thighs and the deadly stillness of her hands as she draws back an arrow, but Scott will always be her weakness.

Lydia watches on with pale eyes from where Allison has left her sitting alone across the room. She watches as Allison wraps her long fingers around Scott's wrists and holds them clasped to her chest. She watches as Allison shushes his cry's and kneels in front of him with a smile and whispered comfort in his ear, sweet red lips brushing the shell of Scott's ear as she speaks. She watches her friend, who she loves dearly but questions her mental capabilities each time she takes Scott back into her life. She watches Allison who is completely confidant in the knowledge of Scott's love, of how deeply he adores her, she's confidant that he wont hurt her even as lost in his wolf as he is now. Lydia wonders if its love at its best or if it's just plain foolishness. After all, Rosalina might have been left brokenhearted but she's the one left alive at the end of the play. Her eyes flicker to Jackson. (There's a whisper of _no-no-no_ from Scott. A shaky exhale begging _please_. A broken sound, a half sob). _"–but don't worry man, you've got nothing to hide right?_" There's a dark look in Stiles eyes as he reaches forward, past the screen of the camera and the picture jerks once before cutting off to black.

"Stop it!"

[_pause_]

"Derek, please! Danny – Danny, stop it!" Allison's hands are fluttering over Scott's back and shoulders, there are tears in her eyes as she watches Scott pull at his hair and drop his shoulders so his head is resting between his knees. His claws have cut deep wounds into his scale but there already starting to heal, it's the blood on Allison's hands that they worry about but she seems fine and unaware of it. "Danny!" If a werewolf could have a panic attack Derek thinks Scott looks like he just might.

The video is paused. Again.

"McCall," Jackson's voice is wreaked. He stands, shoulders tense and hand curled into claws. There's a fimilar scowl on his face and he glares at Scott's before turning away from him and walking over to Lydia and sitting next to her. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and takes a moment to nuzzle her cheek and neck, and they know he's scenting her as he talks in a mumbled voice. "He hasn't even started yet. And despite this being a completely dick move, I think we all owe him to watch the fucking thing through." Lydia's knuckles are white she's holding his hand so hard, and Derek thinks it must hurt but she's nodding beside him and Jackson isn't saying anything about it so neither does he. What can he say? "_I am alpha, hear me roar!"_ - but no, because that's Stiles' line. His part is to growl and pretend like he doesn't enjoy Stiles' attention.

It's not the same without him.

Isaac looks like he wants to argue but in the end he says nothing, honey brown eyes flickering between the two Beta's wildly as he watches and waits. But Scott doesn't look up; he doesn't move or answer Jackson, which is maybe a miracle in itself with all the fights the two have been getting into recently. Everyone in the room is, if silently, thankful, and Jackson tells Danny to just play the damn thing and the human boy does so with a nod. Thankfully, the room seems to be somewhat calmer now. Now the shock of seeing Stiles alive has somewhat passed and now they know what's happening and now they know it's not them under the scrutiny for the rest of the pack to bare witness to. Derek smiles, head leaning back against the wall underneath the locked window as he does. Stiles always did know just how to affect anyone with just a few words.

[_play_]

There's a low hum of music playing when the video blinks back into focus. It sounds a little off to Derek's ears and he realizes that it must be playing from a computer or a radio or something of the like, causing it to play and catch irregularly through the video's audio. It's broken and uneven and his heart drops, heavy, wondering if Stiles was aware of the effect it would have when he started recording. He isn't sure of the answer. The video takes place in Stiles' bedroom again, though this time they can see more of the room past the boy himself. He not sitting as close to the camera now, or maybe he's reduced to zoom, or maybe he was completely unaware of either when he turned the camera on. The bedroom is a mess in the background; his bed is unmade and his pillows are on the floor, there's a small pile of dirty clothes on the floor and a red sock hanging out of a half open draw. The window is open behind him, it's dark outside but not quite night, and there are papers and open textbooks on the floor by his feet. Stiles himself sits in his computer chair, kicking out with his feet and spinning fast in a circle that is wild and out of the control – like him. He ignores them for now.

"_Hey Scott_." The 'hey' is over-pronounced and cocky, and Stiles grins. He's wearing a pair of jogging bottoms and another band shirt – Iron Maiden this time. His feet are bare, with one knee bent to his chest, and the other kicking out slightly, not quite still. But he doesn't spin anymore. It hurts; it hurts so fucking much to watch him like this. Alive. "_You were my first kiss, you know?" _Silence. Shock, disbelief. Because, what? _What the actual fuck_? "_Giving your first kiss to your best friend isn't so bad. There's worse people to give it to I'm sure. I've heard people – girls mostly if I'm being honest, and this is all about honesty really isn't it Scott?_" No one dares breaths. Not Derek. Not Allison. Not Scott. Not even Stiles on the other side of the camera. They all stare though, at Scott, at Stiles, back again, at both of them. Because, _what_? "_Anyway, they say you'll love that person a little your whole life, I think my mom said something about it once. But whatever. It's wasn't so bad. Awkward and too much spit and too much teeth but we were twelve, what the hell did we know about kissing? Right? How were we supposed to know how to kiss anyone?"_ Stiles shakes his head on the other side of the screen, as if he was remembering his first kiss with a fondness, but as he breathed out, long and shallow and broken, it belied any calmness he was trying to portray.

"_Guess I've gone about this a bit backwards, maybe I should start at the beginning. What do you think Scott?_" Stiles tilts his head to the side, staring at the camera as if he could see Scott and was waiting for his reply. None came. "_Well alright, why don't I tell them then? It started about two months after my mom got sick, I was eight and I didn't really understand but I was so angry at everyone anyway and I was getting into fights at school at lot. I'd gotten into another one that day with an upperclassman and was sitting in the reception area waiting for my dad to come and pick me up. Again,_" a pause and a laugh, only half mocking but Derek thought maybe he saw amusement brightening Stiles' eyes for a moment there. Something like hope settled heavy in his stomach at the familiarity. "_I meet Scott then, he'd had another asthma attack but his mom couldn't pick him up yet so he was stuck there with me. I think he might have been a little afraid of me. Me! Am I the only one who sees the irony in that? Please tell me I'm_ _not_." He laughs, "_whatever man. So, he was wary of me for a while, kept shooting me these little looks as if he expected me to throw an epic bitch-fit and break everything in sight. But to be fair I only did that twice and both were right after my mom died."_ Stiles shrugs, unapologetic. Allison looks like she's about to cry. "_Anyway, we get talking and I forget for a while why I'm so angry at everything because fuck, this kid laughs when I say something smart – even if he doesn't get it, and he understands batman and understands the dynamic of Robbin to Nightwing to Batman and just – fuck yeah?"_ There's an awed expression on Stiles face as he leans back into his computer chair grinning. And this is the Stiles that has been missing from their pack for so long, not the angry boy who's been present till now. Derek hates that boy. And yeah, so maybe it has a little to do with how he loves that smile a little more than he probably should. But that's the strange thing about death, when you know it's coming for someone you love you suddenly realize you have no time to keep lying to yourself anymore – because what's the point?

"_Of course, we became best friends like only eight year olds can. I stopped getting into fights and his asthma attacks got worse for a while before settling down. My mom died. His dad left. Shit happened, you know. We grew up. Then we're twelve and dad's working late and Ms. McCall is on night shifts or something so we order pizza and play shitty first edition PlayStation games._" Stiles closes his eyes and uses his foot to turn the chair away from them, as if he can't bare to look at them. He doesn't open his eyes. "_And then you're like_–" he has to cough to break the emotion in his voice before starting again, _"–you're like, Megan Harrows tried to kiss you and then frowned and asked if you were gay, or if you were frigid, or if you were stupid about kissing, or if you were just stupid and I told you to stop whining and just find someone to practice on. It's ridiculous really, you were like yeah, and I'm like yeah, and your like yeah, and before I can 'yeah' back your kissing me and I'm freaking out because fuck man – what the actual fuck?_" Stiles is growling, hands shaking and pulling on hair that isn't long enough to pull and Derek growls with him. "_I mean, seriously, what the actual fuck. But you were all kicked puppy face and pouting and scared looking and shit so I just nodded and let you do it again. And again. Whenever you wanted. You never even asked…and then the next thing I know we're alone in my room making out half the time and lying to our parents the rest of the time, and then suddenly we're sixteen and making out half the time and still lying to our parents. And then Allison Argent arrives in Beacon Hills. Hi Allison."_ Stiles gives a two-fingered wave. There's no smile.

But Allison's pulled away from Scott by now, staring at him with scared, wide eyes and a thousand questions she doesn't know how to ask. "_And it was fine really. Even when you started talking about her more and more. Even when you started dating her – because it wouldn't be the first time you'd dated a girl and still kissed me, would it?" _Stiles continues, looking as wrecked as Allison as she stares at Scott who begins to shake again, far worse than before. "_Even when you backed out of plans to go see her instead. Even when seeing you started automatically meaning seeing Allison too. Even when you forgot to be my friend and just focused on her. It was fine. I was fine with it."_

Stiles turns back around to face them, he wasn't smiling. He wasn't laughing or shouting, but his eyes weren't dry either, and he wasn't allowing himself to react to what he was saying. Derek wished he would. Wished he would shout and scream and curse and cry. "_It broke my heart, a little more each time. Because I don't think I realized that I was in love with you until then. Just a little. But come on, it was like four years of my life spent making out with you half the time and acting like friends the other half. Can you blame me?"_ He asked and Scott whimpered, curled in on himself and tried to hide from the pain and from the rest world. From them.

"_I wanted so bad to hate you, but I couldn't then. I can now, because I haven't loved you in months and months. But I don't know if I can. Maybe I'm not so over you yet – which sucks man, really_." Stiles shrugs one shoulder, his left. "_All I wanted was for you to remember that I was your friend first, before the kiss, before the bite, before you became popular with lacrosse, before Allison fucking Argent. I just wanted to be recognized for myself and not as your little-human-sidekick…your 'friend' who just so happened to save your arse on a daily fucking basis. I wanted to be listened to and not to be taken for granted, again._" A sigh, angry now. "_But fuck you Scott you even forgot my mom's anniversary this year."_ There are tears now, spilling over and gathering on his eyelashes, falling every time he blinks. "_Fuck you_."

The video cuts then, abrupt and loud and sudden, it cuts and skips and then blinks back into focus. And Stiles is sitting closer to the camera now, running hands over his face and looking just so fucking tired and with his eyes shut tight and his elbows leaning on the same desk as the camera. "_I know what you're all thinking, Stiles is an idiot – ha. I said Stiles is, pretty sure I can't say that anymore._" He snorts a laugh, an angry sound that's more of a huff than a laugh. "_I probably was, a fool I mean. I fooled myself into thinking it was more than it obviously was. And I ended up being the only one hurt by it in the end. Not entirely Scott's fault because come on, we all know he's not the smartest puppy in the litter – and that damned puppy look sucks when your trying to hate him, trust me I've tried. But lesson learnt, right?"_

There's a slow shaking of his head and Stiles hadn't moved yet, his hands are still covering his face and hiding his expression and his voice gaves little away even as it breaks and pitches lower unevenly. But Derek can see him licking dry lips and biting the corner of his bottom lip like he does when he's unsure or lost on what to do – when he feels helpless or just because it was something to do. It muffled his voice slightly as he spoke again. "_Right. Sure_." A sigh. "_The next story is Boyd's. Enjoy it man._" And then it cuts again.

[_pause_]

"S-Scott?"

"It wasn't – it wasn't like that – it wasn't…I swear, I swear it wasn't!" Scott pulls at his hair, but unlike with Stiles were he had nothing to hold onto Scott was able to pull at his dark curls and cause himself some amount of pain with each tug. At least until Allison slaps his hands away and glares at him. Angry like only she can be without saying a word. She's shaking and crying and she looks seconds away from slapping Scott across the face and Derek almost wants to cheer her on – an Argent, he wants to cheer on a fucking _Argent_.

"You broke his heart," Allison says. "You made me love you and you broke his heart. You made my loving you break his heart too." It's was only said in a whisper but Scott flinches away from her as if she'd screamed it at him. And the young Beta's reaction lessens some of the bloodlust Derek's wolf urges him towards, its good, but not enough. He want's to stand to his full height and intimidate and use his claws to show the pup how to really cry, how to feel pain and how it feels to really beg for it to stop. He want's to make him submit. He wants him to bleed and hurt while he does. He wants him to hurt like Stiles had. When he has enough control to focus on the room again Jackson is growling at Scott with fangs and glowing eyes and murderous intent in his glowing blue eyes, mirrored by Isaac and Erica, and Lydia has stood to gather Allison in her weak human arms. Lydia makes sure to wait until Scott looks up at them so he see her sneer, her pretty face twisted horribly as she looks down at him and Derek thinks he sees her lips mouth the words _how could you_ before she pulls Allison back over the other side of the room, settling her between herself and Jackson and shushing her as Allison cries into her shoulder and hides behind her red hair.

"He's probably going to destroy me to," Boyd mutters, and there's a hint of fear hidden in his tone and the air is sweet again with the sudden burst of its scent. "I should probably feel some sort sympathy for you, but I just want to punch you in your fucking face right now." And then Boyd growls, quiet at first, almost hidden under the noise of the other wolves, but soon its louder than all of them. And this is Boyd, quite Boyd who could stand in a room and be easily missed even with his impressive bulk. Boyd who never swears or makes crude jokes. Boyd who really speaks, and he shocks them all with his words. And, as he growls at Scott with the golden eyes of his wolf Erica manages to untangle herself from the mess of limbs that she Boyd and Isaac take up on the bed and stands, taking a threatening step towards Scott. Having Boyd agree with her anger seems to be enough justification for her. She howls, terrifying loud and the windows shake with the force of it, before shifting to lunge at him. Derek spares a thought for what the Sherriff's neighbors must be thinking and he thinks he should probably step in and stop her. But he doesn't want to.

Isaac stands as if to stop her but it's Allison who does in the end.

"No." It's a whisper, a plea, and Derek thinks if she had shouted it or screamed it then Erica was likely to have turned on her. As it was Erica's claws shortened into sharp nails and she turned to look at the other girl, an expression somewhere between glare and frown. "No." Allison hiccups past her tears and whips messily at her eyes. "Scott's a – a…"

"Dick?" Lydia offers causing a huff of laughter from a wet eyed Danny still sitting at the computer chair.

"Bitch."

"Arsehole."

"Stiles would have called him a potatohead."

"No. Yeah. Yes. Scott's an arse. A complete fucking arse who I can't look at right now. But there are ten more stories left for us watch. And if they're all like this then I – I don't, I don't think he'll be the only one at fault by the end of it."

Silently, Derek agrees with her.

[_play_]

* * *

So my single drabble has evolved into a series of drabbles. I can't promise I'll finish this story but I'll keep going until I run out ideas. Also; thank you for everyone who reviewed and encouraged me to continue. Though I do place at least half the blame on all of you.


	3. Part the Third

_"...we're werewolves. We don't get to judge 'crazy'." _  
- Carrie Vaughn, Kitty Goes to War

* * *

_Chapter Three; Part the Third._

[_play_]

"_Boyd_." Stiles isn't in his bedroom this time. Derek can only tell because the sofa in the Stilinski's front room is the same as the one his mother had picked out for their den before Kate Argent destroyed his home and killed his pack. He sighs. Stiles is lying down, his head cushioned by that familiar looking sofa but there's something wrong here. Stiles looks pale, his eyes are tired and there's dark bruises swollen around his eyes and right cheekbone; he's smiling around a split lip and his lips are red from where the cut has opened and bleed. Derek wants so badly to reach out and touch him, to use his thumb to gather the blood away from his lips and lick into that mouth – to kiss away any sadness he finds there. "_I hope you don't mind that I waited a while before starting your story, I hadn't expected it to be this hard – and there you all thought talking was what I do best!_" Stiles gives a laugh, or at least he tries to but his arms shake with the force of the coughs that follow. It's a horrible wet sound. The camera he's holding extended above him shakes with the force of his coughs and Derek's body jerks forward sharply as if to go to him, but logically he knows this is only a video and this isn't really happening. Stiles isn't really here. But it doesn't matter. He just wants to reach out and touch him. "_Sorry, sorry. Got to remember not to laugh." _Derek guesses he must have been recovering from another one of their misadventures when he filmed this. He hates it when Stiles is hurt.

There's a sigh from Stiles before the camera moves, jerking and uneven and they see awkward angles of the Stilinski living room as Stiles shifts on the sofa. They catch glimpses of unimportant things; the flat screen television mounted on the far wall, the large bay windows with the blue curtains, the coffee table with a cup of something hot and an opened bottle of Dr. Pepper. They see the floor far closer than they would have otherwise, green carpet and a red stain of what looks like spilled wine hidden under the coffee table. A red bucket sitting close by, just within reach. "_I did it again, didn't I?_" They hear, "_I said 'what I do best'…just can't say shit like that anymore." _And then the camera is sat down on the sofa and it's so close to Stiles' face that they can see the small scar under Stiles left eyebrow, and Stiles stares back at them with amazing amber eyes. He smiles, slow but steady and Derek wonders if he was just too tired to be angry or if Boyd had done nothing too warrant it.

(Derek imagines Stiles curling up on the sofa and talking in the same soft whisper he's using right now and imagines he's there with him, curled around his back and holding him tight. He imagines he can hear his heart beating through their chests. He imagines his skin would be sleep-warm and that his lips would have been as sweet and as soft as his smile.)

(But that's all he can do now; imagine.)

"_You know, it's rather horrible. Planning to kill yourself, I mean."_ Amber eyes lower and eyelashes flutter against pale cheeks. Stiles looks as if he's about to cry, but he doesn't. "_There's the question of how. How to do it. I thought about overdosing for the longest time, but I keep remembering siting on my bathroom floor and staring at these pills but not being about to do a damn thing with them. Even when the opportunity was sitting there right in front of me. I – I thought about jumping of a bridge, or walking in front of a car or truck or something, but…I could do that to the person driving. And the percentage of people that actually succeed in suicide by jumping from a bridge or walking in front of a car is surprising low. Best case scenario I'd most likely end up on life support or paralyzed from the neck down."_ Erica moves on the bed, turning her body away from the screen and closing her eyes tightly as if to hide from the words Stiles was telling them. Isaac moves with her and wraps an arm around her shoulders. Boyd doesn't move at all. "_I thought about shooting myself in the head." _Stiles says. "_But I decided not to in the end. I thought about just, not fighting. The next time some supernatural shitstorm popped up, I thought about just – not fighting it. Let it do what it wanted. But that turned out to be a lot harder than I thought."_ Stiles is rolling his eyes now and grinning at them. "_Stupid Stiles right. But yeah. There's the question of when, of settling on the date and sticking to it. Of deciding the when and where and how. It's horrible man. Because you're the only one who knows and you've still go to smile and act strong for everyone around you, so they don't figure it out. And you find yourself thinking, how the hell are they going to survive without you?"_ There's fear in Stiles eyes then, but he's looking away from them again so they can't it fully._ "And I can't tell anyone, because that would change everything, all my plans. They'll try to stop me. Or maybe they won't. Maybe they'll just say Stiles is being stupid again and brush it off – I'm not sure, which would be worse." _He whispers, sounding small and scared._ "So I shoulder them. Their fears and their pain, and I let them cry and shout and yell at me. I let them talk about their shitty boyfriends and their relationships that are falling apart and their parents that just don't understand and their lives that are just so damn unfair, and. And they're clueless. Fucking clueless. No one's figured it out. Not even the genius mind of Lydia Martin. It's just me. I'm dealing with this all alone, because that what I decided. And it terrifies me._" Styles eyes lower, looking away from the camera as if ashamed and Derek thinks it must have horrible to admit that for the first time to a camera. There's a sound then, and he can imagine that Stiles is picking at the material of the sofa, causing the camera to jerk slightly with each tug and Stiles smiles that slow soft grin again but he's still not looking at them. "_But whatever man. Boyd. I wanted to tell you something._"

"_I know what you did last summer._" It's a terrible joke, in the way only Stiles' jokes are. But Boyd seems to understand what it means immediately and his heart jumps in response. Red eyes watch him, questioning. "_It took me a while to actually figure out, so congratulations man because usually I see things so fucking quickly._" His eyes blink up at them before lowering to stare at the sofa again – and god if that wasn't annoying. (He won't look at them this time, and Derek wants to shout, want to pause the damn video on where Stiles is look straight at the camera and leave it there and pretend everything is okay again. But it's not.)

"_I remember thinking that at least Derek picked one sensible wolf to add to his pack. Someone that was calm enough that he could learn to control his wolf before he tried to kill anyone. Someone that Derek could share the burden of watching over this group of stupid kids who think they know everything. Someone who could help Derek bring us all together and be an actual pack, stupid right? Because we both know what you promised the Alphas."_ Stiles eyes flash in anger, and Derek doesn't gasp with the rest of them but his breath does hitch painfully. Because the light tricks them into thinking that his eyes had flashed golden. But they hadn't. He knows Stiles wasn't a wolf. He hates it, because a wolf is far harder to kill than a human, and he wishes – god, how he wishes he'd bitten Stiles when he had the chance.

But Stiles words kick in a moment later and confusion, a scent spicy but not overwhelming, fills the air and they look to Boyd who sits straighter and whose eyes have widen almost unnoticeably. But the wolves are trained to look for these things, small changes in posture and dilated eyes that give too much away, and they spot it easily. Fear. It's sweet on the air and mixes with the spice of confusion. "_I know what you promised, in exchange for yours and Erica's lives. Back in the woods that summer they came crashing through Beacon Hills."_ Stiles looks up at them again, glaring, but it's weak and it's obvious now that he's feeling just so tired and Derek wants to shout at him and tell him to go to sleep and get better. To tell them (him) all of this in person – but he cant, because this was in all likelihood filmed months ago and Stiles isn't – he's not…

He's not here.

"_I remember I kept thinking, Boyd must be really fucking good at this werewolf politics bullshit because every time we ran into Alpha Pack somehow you got us out of there without getting us killed or seriously maimed. Not including the time that Butch Alpha Bitch tried clawing Jacksons pretty face off but come on, he's a douche half the time so I don't blame her – too much._" It's Lydia who laughs at that, her hand quickly raising to cover her mouth and looking shocked at herself as she does. And Jackson turns to glare at her and then at the room as a rumble of amusement rolls over them. But Lydia only smiles, small and sweet like she only is when she's with Jackson. It's Jacksons smile, and he stops being angry the moment he sees it and then he's leaning over Allison to nuzzle Lydia's neck again. Isaac snorts from across the room but no one says anything. "_But yeah, I figured it out when Derek killed the last one off, and she was screaming that you'd promised. But she wasn't looking at Derek: it was you. It was always you. You promised them something. And then it all made sense. The only way that you left the woods alive that night. The only way we survived running headfirst into them so many fucking times. You promised them your Alpha_." It was then that they got it and there's a series of shocked inhales and whispers of _no_. Because it can't be, Boyd wouldn't do that. He wouldn't betray his pack like that. But the room is silent against the only other sound of Stiles heavy breathing on the other side of the camera and Erica whines miserably.

But it's Danny, a human, who seems the most angered with Boyd, a deep frown and an angry line to his mouth. It's shocking, or maybe its not seeing how quickly Danny had taken to the pack and the bonds of family they offered him. And it's strange to see Danny looking anything but happy. But Boyd isn't meeting their eyes – he's watching Stiles. Unblinking.

Derek growls, and the Betas and humans all quiver a little at it. All of them.

"_I still don't know if you would have done it. I hope not. I don't know if Erica knew what you'd promised them." _Stiles says after a while, a silence that has dragged on on both sides of the camera. A sigh escapes Stiles as he rubs at his eyes careful of the bruises, but he still winces. "_I think you'd make a good Alpha one day Boyd, but I don't think you could kill anyone you cared about – you have so few of them anyway, right?_" Stiles shrugs, coughing again. "_I don't know what to say man. You promised to kill Derek and take his place. You promised to join them after you'd done it and – I don't know what you would have done with the rest of us. The Alpha's hated us. They thought Betas were inferior. They thought humans where only good for a hunt. They would have probably killed us, or had you kill us. Maybe that was part of what you promised them as well. I don't know. Would you have done it?" _Isaac cries, a boy with the eyes of a wolf, and he cries and turns away from Boyd and cries harder. "_And I hate that you did it, like you don't understand how much I hate that you did it. But." _A pause, and Derek's heart skips unhappily. "_But I can sort of understand too. You love her, like Scott loves Allison, and she'll always be first – before the pack and before your own life. Always. Does Erica even know that?"_ He asks, frowning deeper which each word. "_But…I get that. I get wanting to protect her. But I hate that you did it man."_ There's a noise then, distant cursing and a sound of a door banging closed and the Sheriff calling out for his son. "_Guess I gotta cut this one short. Next story's for Lydia. Be seeing you._" And then he's calling out for his dad and the camera jerks and cuts off.

[_pause_]

Speechless. No one has the words to ask the questions that need to be asked.

"Boyd?" Erica's looking at him as if begging him to tell her Stiles was lying, that he was wrong or that he misunderstood something along the way. She looks desperate and her scent is as well. But Boyd's silence tells them enough.

"Would you have done it?" Derek asks some time later, head resting back against the wall and staring up at the cracked white paint of the ceiling. He tries not to feel hurt that Boyd (Boyd out of all of them) would betray him. But he can't quite manage it.

"I, don't think so." But Boyd eyes flicker towards Erica as he speaks and Derek could have guessed he was lying even without his heart giving him away. He grunts and glares over at the screen. It's not Stiles' fault at all, but it makes him uncomfortable to think Stiles saw all this about his (their) pack when even he was blinded to it. It makes him uncomfortable to think that Stiles didn't confine him. "I'm sorry." Boyd whispers, but there's no answer.

[_play_]

* * *

_Bad Boyd._


	4. Part the Fourth

_"The flesh had infinity in it. I must know every inch by touch yet every inch renewed its mystery the instant my hand moved on. Delightful endless futility."  
- _Glen Duncan, The Last Werewolf

* * *

_Chapter Four; Part the Fourth._

[_play_]

It's dark when the video blinks back into focus. The screen seems to move and jerk but there's no picture to clue them into what's happening. They can hear loud noises and harsh (distant) breathing and the muttering of curses but the with the lack of picture on the screen it's impossible to make out anything and Danny mutters a curse and wonders out loud if it's there's something wrong with the feeds before standing to check the wires connected at the back of the computer. Most of it is lost on the rest of the room however. "Danny, leave it. The pictures moving, it's just black." Jacksons says. "The idiot probably just forgot to take the cap off or something." He snorts before stopping short as Scott growls low and threatening over at him. "Oh, you didn't just fucking growl at me McCall, not after what you did to him you fucking–"

"Shut up." Lydia snaps, turning to stare at each wolf in turn and making sure to watch them cower under her glare before talking again. She tilts her head up and squares her soft jaw into a hard line. "This is my part of the – of the story. And I'll beat the both of you dead with sticks of wolfsbane if you make me miss a _single_ word of it. Now shut up." She turns to Jackson. "_Both_ of you."

Danny huffs a laughs, knowing neither wolf will dare utter a word now Lydia has made even the slightest suggestion of a threat. They all remember the sight of Peter Hale, pale and shaken and bloody with burns of what they later found out was plated wolfsbane ropes after a visit to Lydia that was meant to intimidate but ended up with the old wolf baring his neck to Lydia in submission. The wolves are all (rather justifiably in Danny's opinion) scared of what she might do next, though Erica only smiles that wicked grin of hers which is possibly more scary with her bloodshot eyes and ruined makeup. But of course she grins, Erica has one twisted sense of humor. Danny rolls his eyes and continues to frown over at the black screen. But there's nothing to see until the sound of a zipper brakes through the sound of Stiles' breathing. A hand reaches into the bag the camera must have been placed in and pull it out, showing them the world outside of the dark bag. "_Lydia!_" Stiles is grinning so wide it shows off his canines, duller than a wolf's but still sharp. His amber eyes are a little unfocused when they final see his face and the hood of that ridiculous red jumper of his is pulled up and over a black beanie. It must have been cold out then, because Stiles hates wearing hats. "_Lovely Lydia_." The camera catches the sight of a dark sky and dull stars before Stiles steadies it and Danny wonders if he's drunk. He looks drunk. Or maybe he just looks happy.

Maybe he's a happy drunk?

So Stiles is outside somewhere, and it's dark, and cold if the flush to Stiles' cheeks and the cold red of his nose were anything to go by. "_You know, I can still remember the first time I saw you._" Stiles says, because it's not really a question. His grin is still in place as he juggles the camera into his other hand so he can pull his messenger bag back over his shoulder, it looks like the same one he uses for school. Used. The same one he _used_ for school. Derek wants to cry. "_We were in kindergarten,_" (because of course Stiles remembers the first time he meet Lydia Martin) and the camera moves, turning in Stiles' hand to show them the small playground he was currently standing in. The movement is jerky and it's difficult to see what Stiles does but it's not surprising. Derek wonders if Stiles used a tripod when he was filming in his room, and how could he have missed that if he had, or if he'd just balanced the camera on top of the computer unit or something equally ridiculous. "_In this playground, actually._"

It's clearly a child's playground, with strong, wide wooden structures perfect for young children climbing over each other as they played. There are two sets of slides; one is taller than the other but both frames are built only as high as an adults shoulders. There's a swing-set that seats close to the ground but still high enough that a child would think they were high. There's a sandpit just visible in the far corner of the camera's screen and Derek thinks he seeks a seesaw in the darkness. He remembers Laura pushing him off a seesaw once, he wonders if it's the same one. "_I can't even remember the last time I came to a park, but I remember the first time I saw Lydia Martin. She was so pretty, even back then."_ Jackson is frowning at the screen, clearly uncomfortable with how Styles has started Lydia's part in his story because yeah, it does sound a little bit creeper-like. A little bit Matt-like. But thankfully, and most likely due to Lydia's earlier words, Jackson's stays quite. His arm is stretched around Allison's shoulders and his thumb rubbing small circles on the curve of Lydia's neck. He's offering her any form of comfort he can but she's paying him little attention now, eyes wide and unsure as she watches Stiles walk towards the swings and sit down. "_And, regardless of how everyone else saw my…infatuation, shall we call it that? Whatever. Regardless how everyone else saw my infatuation with Lydia as pathetic, I had this one moment that I was so sure meant something more. Until of course I realized you'd completely forgotten it, Lydia._" Stiles smiles at the camera, surprising soft and he's giggling like a toddler under his breath. "_I don't blame you, we were only kids – four or five at most. I don't know why I expected you to remember really, I just did. Which yeah, a totally unfair expectation on you."_ A sigh. "_I'd say sorry but, I can't bring myself to mean it._"

"_Yeah. Anyway, it all started in this park. I didn't even realize we were in the same class group until then you know? Strange I know, Lydia Martin being in the immediate vicinity and me not reacting to it. Shocking right? But yeah, I was still going for tests every other week and had too much energy all the time and was hyperactive and acting out and my ADHA hadn't even been suggested yet."_ Stiles says in one huge rush and he shakes his head, a hand rubbing at his jaw and his eyes growing distant. "_My mom was going crazy I think, wanted me to burn of as much energy as I could before she took me home – so we started going to the park after kindergarten. Because I was a hyperactive little bastard who couldn't sit still for two seconds."_ Scott frowns, whispers an almost silent _no you weren't_. "_Still am really._"

"_So yeah, mom starts bringing me to park after school and little-mini-me goes crazy. I have to try everything twice. And then I have to do it twice more before we go home." _Stiles rolls his eyes here and chuckles. "_But it's at the swings that I met Lydia. And when I say she was cute you have no fucking idea. Strawberry blonde pigtails tied with blue fucking silk ribbons and a green dress. It was all lacey and pretty and I remember thinking she looked like a little china doll but she looked so, sad. She was, I tried talking to her but I probably scared her half to death. Half shouted words and unable to stand still. But we're talking pretty soon and she tells me she's too scared to try the swings, because they're higher than the ones in her back garden and her cousin likes to scare her and pushed too high while her parents are inside pretending not to argue."_ As Lydia watches her eyes widen, she doesn't remember any of what Stiles is saying but she remembers how her parents fought all the time and how her cousin had thought scaring her was a good distraction. She'd hated him then but they're close now. "_Damn Lydia you were smart even back then."_ Stiles says, in awe as he often is of her. "_I don't remember how I convinced you to get on the seat but I remember pushing you and laughing and talking and I thought you were the best thing ever._" Stiles says, but his smile slowly drops and his eyes harden. He frowns._ "You said you were in the same grade as me and you were even ahead of the class on reading and I didn't care that you were a girl, I just thought you were…" Stiles shrugs. "I thought – I thought you were the best friend I'd ever meet." _And then he smiles sad and quiet for a few minutes, amber eyes watching the park around him that they can't see.

There's a high squeaking sound of unoiled chains and Stiles starts to move, gently swinging they guess, before he starts to talk again. "_Your dad came to pick you soon after though. Said it was getting late and you can come back tomorrow. You made me promise to come back at the same time so we could play again and I agreed. Of course I agreed. I remember watching you leave and watching you talk to your dad as he held you hand out of the park, talking a mile-a-minute and grinning so fucking huge, and I remember thinking…she's not perfect." _Lydia makes a small noise, like she's affronted. "_Her hair is too red and her eyes are too pale and she's too short. She's a girl. Girls have cooties or some shit right? But. I remember thinking she fit perfect with me. We were both too smart, we both talked too much, we both stood out in a crowd for different reasons. And I might have thought I was in love with you then Lydia, I might have told my mom that I was going to marry you one day, I might have let everyone since then think I was in love with you. But the truth is. I was too young to realize that I loved you then because you were just like me. I just needed to feel like I wasn't alone and you – you took that away from me without even realizing what you were doing. I think that hurts more. That I wasn't worth a second thought even when we were five_." Stiles doesn't smile. "_You never came back to park."_

"Stop it."

[_pause_]

"Lydia?" Jackson asks because Lydia's crying fat tears that fall from her lashes every time she blinks. But Lydia doesn't move, she just stares blindly at the screen over Danny's shoulder and Jackson doesn't know what to do. (Seriously, he has no clue.) But Allison is rubbing soothing circles on Lydia back and making low shushing sounds – she's doing that thing that Jackson's sure only works if a girl does it, it's a comfort thing. But when it comes to comforting people he's at a complete loss, because it something he's never really done before and Lydia isn't the sort of girl to cry. So, he does what he can. He keeps his hand on her neck, moving his thumb over her pulse gently and smiling because he knows Lydia has cat-eyes and can see him from her peripheral vision. He doesn't like it when she cries. He'd punch Stiles in the face for causing it if he were here (and it's not because Stiles is in the wrong here, because he's not and Jackson knows it, but because he made Lydia cry). He'd do anything for Lydia. "I'm sorry. I just – I just need a minute." She tells him and he nods, glaring at Isaac when he looks like he's about to question her. But it's Erica who ends up saying something.

"You don't remember him?" She asks, and maybe Jackson was curious about that too. But Lydia shakes her head, tears not yet drying on her face and she hiccups on her next breath. But her eyes haven't moved from the screen. And when she starts to talk its in a quite voice that only strengthens when Allison squeezes her hand and whispers that it's alright in her ear.

"I – I remember my older cousin Matthew hiding in cupboards and jumping out at me, trying to scare me. I remember punching him in the face one time and him crying for two hours. I remember pretending to be sorry but loving watching his eye swell. He still has a crooked nose." She tells them. "I remember my parents arguing and my dad taking me out a lot to buy me stuff." She shrugs a shoulder, her left. "Books. Clothes. Toys. Day's outs. Overseas. To Paris. Or England. Anything I even looked at he would buy for me." She says, her voice monotone. Bored. "He was guilty, they both were. My parents. They sat me down when I was seven and told me they loved me but they didn't love each other anymore. I doubt they ever loved each other." Allison sifts closer and rests her head on Lydia's shoulder. "They divorced that summer and argued for three weeks about who I was to stay with for the holidays. I could hear everything they said." Lydia looks like she wants to say more, but she stops herself. She opens her mouth as if to continue, licks her lips twice, but doesn't say anything more in the end.

Erica watches her with unreadable, soft eyes and Isaac frowns like he doesn't understand. Scott is watching her strangely though, and Boyd looks like he wants to ask questions but know she wont answer to him – not now. "Your parents are idiots." Erica says, as if that's something you can just go around saying without repercussions. But Lydia grins a crocked smile in answer and Derek isn't sure if it's such a great idea for the two girls to bond. But Stiles would think it was fucking hilarious.

Lydia raises her hands to her face and uses the heel of her palms to rub at her eyes. "Okay," using her fingers as a comb she brushes them through her hair before twisting the red curls together and flicking it over her shoulder. "Okay," she smiles over at Allison and meets Jackson's eyes as she kisses the inside of his wrist. She asks Danny to play the video again, please.

[_play_]

"_I went to the park every day that summer, waiting for you to come back because you had to right? But, you never did. I thought I might see you in school because you said we were in the same grade, but by the time school let in again you passed me by without any sign of – anything really. I even tried introducing myself to you again, because my mom said that sometimes people just need a little reminding. You said my name was stupid and you don't want to be friends with a little freak who stares at you all day and can't shut up for the rest of the time. I didn't try again, but I still watched you – because I wanted to be friends so, so badly._" Stiles smiles, but it's not angry. It's sad. And Derek wonders which is worse. "_I stopped answering to my name and told people to call me Stiles, because Gemini was stupid._"Scott looks up then, staring over at Lydia and she watches him with wet eyes. And Derek thinks Scott might hate her in that moment because remembers the conversations he'd overheard where Scott had started to called Stiles '_Gem_' and how angry it had made Stiles. It makes a little more sense now.

"_I'd wondered for so long what could have changed in such a short time. I remember how smart you were and how you'd spoken of a dozen different things that day in the park and how you knew stupid amounts of everything you talked off. I remembered how you kept up with my thought-process and didn't get lost when I changed subjects so quickly; I remember how you said you loved maths and you were ahead on our summer reading. But in school you never raised your hand once to answer a question and you lied and said you didn't do your summer homework because it was stupid and your mom said you didn't have to if you didn't want to." _Stiles looks at the camera like he can see Lydia on the other side, he frowns._ "So yeah, I wondered what happened. I wondered why you were hiding so much of yourself away from the world, why you were hiding behind a beautiful face and acting like the rest of the girls who were only interested in Barbie's and new hair accessories and – shit Lydia. You're so much better than that."_

Lydia's face is red. She blushing and embarrassed and upset and she's shaking her head to Allison who is whispering questions to her. _"And then, I figured it out._" Lydia's heart skips at those words, it's pace racing and climbing with each word Stiles goes on to say._ "You're scared. Of everything. Of showing the world what you have to offer and getting laughed at. Of showing them how amazing your mind is and for them to tell you it's not good enough. You're scared that your brain isn't going to keep you alive when you're running from werewolves and hunters. You're scared that your brain is the reason Peter attacked you, that he had any sort of control over you. You're afraid Jackson won't want a smart girlfriend. You're afraid Allison won't want a friend who is smarter than her. You're afraid that you can't be smart and popular, because that's who you've built yourself around – being popular. Being known and being talked about. Being seen. But see the thing is, I know what it's like to be afraid."_

There are tears in Stiles' eyes that cause his eyelashes to clump together and he uses the heel of his palm to wipe his nose, sniffling as he does. Derek doesn't understand it. Doesn't how Stiles could have keep so much sadness hidden away from them for so long. How he didn't just break down and cry. But then Derek remembers that Stiles did break down, but none of them were there to see if he cried or not. _"I know what it's like to be afraid that you're not good enough." _Stiles says, his voice broken and rough._ "I know what it's like to afraid of having real friendships with people who could turn round and use it against you. To be afraid that someone will see you for who you are, to be afraid that you'll slip up somehow and get everyone killed. You're afraid to be who you are. And the worse thing is, I know who you are. And I still wanted to know you. I mean, you're a bitch. You use people to do what you need of them and then discard them when it's done. And there's no denying it. But the thing is, you have the capability to be an amazing friend when you want to be._ _Because when you're not being a complete bitch you're actually a nice person. And, maybe you could show some of the others that girl as well, because honestly they're mostly lazy fuckers who won't look for that five year old girl I meet in the park that day_."

Stiles laughs under his breath but Derek can hear the hitch in his breathing and he knows he's holding back a sob. "_And, well._ _I guess I should apologize as well. Because, here's the thing." _A deep breath: "_I'm not in love with you._"He says and someone snorts, amused, and Derek might pretend he hears his Uncle Peter's voice saying '_bitch_ _please_' but he says nothing._ "But I needed someone unattainable. Someone who would never respond to my feelings, someone who couldn't hurt me – I needed someone to hide behind. But the truth was, I was in love with a boy who liked boys but wasn't brave enough to admit it. I was in love with a boy who kissed me in the dark of his room and then kissed girls in the school parking lot for everyone to see. And I could hide behind you, in your shadow. Because everyone knew who you were and everyone knew I was just another lovesick fool following you around. But the truth was it was Scott. For the longest time it was Scott, and in then end you saved me from loving him and you never even knew. You showed me the sort of person I wanted to love. Someone strong and independent and reliable, and – and someone who loved me back. You showed me what he wasn't. You…showed me who I needed to be to move on. So thank you. For that. Thank you."_

Stiles' breath hitches again and this time they hear the sob that escapes. And Derek wonders what Lydia makes of all this. Wonders if she wishes she had more time with Stiles. Wonders if she wishes she had gone back to the park that summer. Wonders if she wishes she had been kinder to him. Wonders if she wishes she had taken his hand when he offered it a second time. He wants to ask, but the girl looks so distraught and she trying to hide it from them but it's a useless hope really._ "And I'm sorry. Because you're beautiful, but I don't love you." _Stiles stops then, and he's completely silent. His breathing still, his face relaxes and his voice is silent. He's still in a way he's never been before and it's – it scares them.

Lydia uses both of her hands to cover her face. Her shoulders shake and she's crying, they know she is, they can taste the salt on the air as easily as they can the guilt and fear and grief. "_I guess. I just wanted you to know that I saw you. And I still wanted to be your friend. Because I always admired you Lydia." _He laughs, "_we could have been great babe._" The worse thing is, he's right. But there's nothing left to say now and the only sound is that of the swing-set groaning under Stiles' weight before, with a strange inhale and failing arms, Stiles is sneezing and groaning loudly. "_Man, I refuse to get ill again for you lot. The next story's for Erica, you know, keeping it up with girl power and all that."_ He sneezes again before the camera jerks and shutters loudly and, with a muffled curse, it cuts off again.

[_pause_]

* * *

Whenever I read a story Teen Wolf story, regardless of the pairing, more often than not Stiles is always falling hopelessly in love with Lydia and following her around just waiting for him to see how great he is and then turning his attention onto someone else when they start showing an interest in him. Which is fine, I don't actually mind that as a plot device. But I wanted to present Stiles' feelings for Lydia in a different way. So here. Enjoy.


	5. Part the Fifth

_"Fortunately, among werewolf women, the word "bitch" is not offensive. I was having a lot of fun with that.  
"Hey there, bitches!" I called as I came through the door. "What are my favorite bitches up to today?"  
- _Molly Harper_, _Nice Girls Don't Date Dead Men

* * *

_Chapter Five; Part the Fifth._

[_play_]

They're outside again when the camera starts on the next clip. The angle of the camera leaves them looking up at Stiles and blue sky and bright rays of sun that leave him looking fucking haloed in light as he grins at them. Seriously. It's like that, that _spark_ that made Stiles just so him has become an external light and he was fucking glowing. _Glowing_. It almost hurt to look at him. And Derek's wonders if the pack, his pack of humans and wolves and not-quite-humans and daughters of hunters and sons of beasts, he wonders if they would have shown Stiles how loved he was if they were given the chance again. He wonders if they had even realized how much they needed this boy when they had him. He wonders if they regret taking him for granted, because Derek knows he does.

Stiles is pulling faces at them, puffing his cheeks out and sticking his tongue out, and he keeps grinning. He looks so happy. "_Hey Erica_," The camera jolts a little with each step Stiles takes and they can see the sky moving over his head, can see the green of trees and the tops of lampposts and the high windows of buildings overhead as he walks. _"I thought long and hard about where I should film this. But in the end I just couldn't decide, I mean, I wanted to go in the comic book store and film it there – because you make one amazing Catwoman Erica, but there's some stuff that just can't be overheard, you know?" _He says, still walking with that happy grin on his face. A voice of an elderly woman calls out and he says hello back to her before continuing on his way. _"Of course,"_ he continues after,_ "that means the library is out of the question as well, because I think we all know how well I can use the 'indoor voice'." _He laughs. "_Man. Mrs. Floyd hated me_." Mrs. Floyd had been their teacher when they were seven, and she had rather disliked Stiles' loud nature and boisterous personality. "_So, yeah. I couldn't decide where to go, but it's such a nice day out today I figured I'd take you on a walk Erica. Sit down somewhere. Maybe have a bit of a chat. You know, normal stuff."_ He shrugs, acting as if this entire situation was normal and Derek has to wonder if he found it weird or uncomfortable at any point to be sharing all these secrets with a camera that couldn't answer him back. He doesn't voice his thoughts however and Stiles doesn't say much after this, other than to hum a strange tune under his breath as he walks and Derek can see Erica becoming tenser as she waits.

"Why isn't he talking?" She asks, her thumb pressed between her lips and her nail caught between her human teeth. "Why isn't he saying anything?"

"But he already told you," Danny whispers, one leg crossed over the other and leaning back in his chair. "He's taking you for a walk."

"It sounds like a bad dog joke," Isaac says, pressing his thigh more firmly into Erica's. He doesn't meet Boyd's eyes as the other wolf's hand strokes over his arm, but he doesn't shy away from the touch either.

"All of Stiles dog jokes were bad dog jokes," Boyd says. And his use of pass tense sobers them all.

"_Okay, this looks good. What do you think?_" The camera moves in Stiles hand, showing them a wooden bench by a long stretch of grass and then moving to show them that Stiles is standing across the street from the public library. They can even make out the small café that Stiles liked to go to so often to their left. "Alright then." So Stiles sites down, sideways because Stiles can't ever do anything how they think he will and he bends his knees to use them to support his arms and holds the camera in both of his outstretched arms. The camera is now looking straight at Stiles and he raises his eyebrows as if to mock them because this feels more intimate somehow and Erica raises her chin as if she doesn't care but she's blushing. _"I'm still trying to figure out to start this one."_ He admits, "_but I suppose it should be back in fourth grade, with Mrs. Floyd. And Erica has her first seizure at school in the middle of free time. It was horrible, to watch it mean, because we didn't know what was going on or why you were crying and shaking and then everyone was crying and screaming and then they took you away to the office. Your mom came to pick you up and we didn't see you for a week afterwards." _Stiles sighs, rolling his head and resting it on his arm before continuing to talk in the same soft voice. "_When you got back you shied away from us and wouldn't tell us what happened, just that your mommy had said you were ill and the doctors were going to make you feel better. You. You stopped raising your hand in class and you stopped wearing your hair down. You cut it all off when you were six, remember? Something about how you kept throwing during your seizures and getting it knotted and filthy."_ Stiles looks sad now, frowning into the camera. He's wearing black t-shirt graphic and Erica breaks into surprised giggles when she realizes it depicts Batman fighting against the Joker and Harley Quinn, a present she'd bought him for his birthday last year. "_Thing is, you seem so convinced that you had no friends before you took the bite. But we were all friends when we were younger – even douchey-minisized-Jackson_." There's a twitch in Stiles' cheek, as if he wants to smile, and he bites down on his bottom lip hard to stop himself. Jackson across the room leans his head back and smirks and Lydia licks her licks and smiles. "_Thing is, you left us first. I think you did it because you thought it would be easier than us walking away, right? And I remember our class being so sad because we knew you were upset but you wouldn't talk to us. I remember watching you a lot from the window in detention when I got into fights after – after I found out about my mom. I remember you saying the doctors where going to make you better. And I remember how often you had seizures back then as well. I remember being angry. Because they lied, the doctors. They weren't making you better, and they wouldn't be able to make my mom better either."_

Amber eyes stare at them bright with tears, but none fall. "_I wanted to talk to you, so badly. Because you were so sad and so beautiful at the same time and, I liked watching you. It made me feel less angry, less like I wanted to punch something and more like I could just – be. And maybe everything would be different if I had. But I was scared. Because you amazed me."_ Erica hiccups, wiping at her eyes and smearing her makeup a little more across her eyes. There was a hitch in her breathing and a low whine that turned into more tears and louder sobs. She was a mess, but she didn't see to care what she looked like right then and Derek had to admire that. "_You did. I was…in awe of you. Because I remember seeing a shy girl with blonde hair and blue eyes who would hide in the corner of a room and read her books without caring for what anyone said about her. I remember admiring her and kicking myself everything I couldn't string the words together to say a 'hello' to her, because I was intimidated to talk to her. She was so pretty and smart and I was – me."_ Stiles closes his eyes and doesn't open them as he says the next; "_I remember seeing her die after she became a wolf."_

Erica whines again. Hearing her story here, on this damn videotape with Stiles watching them from behind a screen, it must be killing her. A shiver crawls up Derek's spine. _Killing her_. A phrase he will now drop from his vocabulary. "_And things started to make more sense then, after you became a wolf_." He said, amber eyes watching them again. "_Suddenly you had your hair down, and it was curled and bounced when you walked. And you started wearing red lipstick and dark eyeshadow and looked like one of those hot girl of a rock poster. And you of course you donned that stupid fucking leather jacket Derek seems so bloody fond of. And what's with that? Is it a part of some strange innate ritual of joining a wolf pack or something? God._" Stiles shakes his head, frowning and obviously frustrated and Scott snorts – setting of soft chuckles and grins around the room. Derek growls at them all. "_Whatever man._" Stiles licked his lips slowly before hesitating, eyes flicking sideways as if he was reading from a script. "_It was like literally overnight and you changed everything that made you – you. And I mean, I remember how distraught you were when those videos of you started circulating. And I mean, who even does that? Films a girl having a seizure. I don't know man, it was sick. But I remember what you were like afterwards, sticking to empty classrooms during breaks and walking with your shoulders brushing against the lockers so people would knock into you." _He says, his frown deepening with each word and the anger on his face becoming more intense as he spoke. "_You were hiding Erica. And you were good at it. But it was in the way you held yourself, and the way you watched everyone around you, and how you never forgot what they said and what they did. You stepped back and let them walk all over you. You let them laugh and sneer at you in the hallways, but I saw it in your eyes. You weren't weak. You were a wolf even when you were human. It was all posed, like a careful act they didn't know they'd been cast in – and you'd make sure they lost right? In the end it was all posed. And what an interesting word that is to sum up Erica's tale. Because when you're posed, you know someone's watching. You put on your very best smile. You let your sweetest personality shine. And in high school, people are always watching so there's always a reason to pose. I don't think you always did this intentionally Erica, and that's why I never said anything. But I am now. I have to, to let you know that what you do affects others. Or, more specifically, how it affected me."_

Erica sniffs, she looks sad but there's a vicious look in her eyes of acknowledgement, of being seen for who she is and she smiles sadly. Derek thinks he remembers seeing the same look in his mother's eyes when he was growing up and told her of how the humans would point and laugh at them in school, saying dirty words and laughing where they knew they would hear them. He remembers how they never stopped, but how they would look at them with fear as the older they got. "_Because that girl, the girl I would watch from detention and the girl I admired from afar died long ago. The Erica I know hits me over the head with parts of my own car and flirts with my best friend in an effort to break up his relationship. And I hate you for it. I hate you for taking her from me." _He pauses then; just staring into the camera for a long while but when he opens his mouth to start talking again another familiar voice calls out his name.

"_Stiles. What are you doing?"_ Danny asks, his voice sounding faint and the camera jerks and falls to Stiles chest.

"_Danny! Dan my main man!"_ Stiles says, and they can easily imagine his grin and can imagine Danny's eye roll in answer. Their Danny, the Danny on this side of the camera is sitting straight in his chair, his lips parted in a gasp and his heart his racing. "_Always a pleasure._"

"_Hello Stiles_," Danny's voice is somewhere between expired and fond and there's a moment of silence before; "_what's with the camera?"_

"_Oh, this? Just a – project, I'm working on."_ Stiles says, "_a project of which I am currently working_," they only catch a glimpse of Stiles, all amber eyes and wide grin, before the camera turns and they're looking at Danny dressed in a tight blue top and a pair of dark grey jogging bottoms. He looks like he's been running. His hair was damp and looked to be curling at the ends and the t-shirt gives a new meaning to _formfitting_. Danny smiles, looking all sunshine and dimples as ever but there's a question tilt to his chin as he waves in answer to Stiles "_Say hi Danny," _which he does a moment later.

"_Hi_." Stiles snorts from behind the camera, probably thinking Danny's bland answer and smooth sass was terrible funny. They watch Danny nod to the camera before sitting down, legs spread wide and arms bracketing his knees. "_So, what are you really doing?" _Clever Danny.

"_Just, filming a little a message for a friend. Birthday present_. _It's silly really._" Stiles lies so easily, so believably, and Danny nods his head with no reason to _not_ believe him. The Danny on their side of the camera mutters angrily to himself, _why didn't you see it?_ But the Danny on Stiles' side just bows his head and breathes in heavily stuttering breaths. He's frowning, and he licks his lips twice before he manages to speak.

_"Can I ask you something?"_ Danny asks and Stiles must have nodded because he starts talking again. _"How do you do it? How do you keep up with all of this werewolf stuff? How do you not go crazy with it all?"_

_"I don't know man. We do it because we have to, they'd be fur pelt on the Argents dungeon floor without us." _The two boys laugh, short and dark. They can't see Stiles but Danny tips his head back and laughs like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard. _"Jackson would be lost without you man, but – you know he wouldn't ask you to stay if you wanted out right? I mean, don't get me wrong, Jackson's a dick but he'd die to keep you safe and–"_

_"No. I mean yeah, Jackson's a dick but he wouldn't ask me to stay if I – I don't want out." _Danny shook his head,_ "if you tell Jackson I called him a dick I'm telling him you said it first." _Stiles laughs sudden and bright and the Danny on their side of the screen smiles a soft, private smile. The rest of the room chuckles.

_"I'd deny it until the day I die." _It suddenly wasn't so funny anymore._ "What's really wrong Danny?"_

_"Nothings–"_

_"Danny." _Stiles' voice is surprisingly serious and both Danny's sigh.

_"It's just. Things. I can't…"_ Danny groans, frustrated with himself and he runs both of his hands over his face, muttering darkly into his palms. The tension grew in his muscles and wound tighter and tighter. "_Everything's just so hard right now."_ Danny's voice is shaky and it's hard for the rest of them to listen to something so private, but Danny doesn't look angry as he watches – he looks sad. "_I wouldn't know where to begin. I mean, I kind of do. But there's so much and I don't know how to sum it all up."_ Stiles is silent, but Danny doesn't seem to be talking to him so much as he is to himself. "_It's just. Just empty. Just nothing. I don't care anymore. I can't – I–"_ he stops and his breath hitches, his hands clenched so tightly that they can imagine bones grinding under skin. "_Never mind. It – it doesn't matter."_ He shakes his head and smiles absentmindedly. "_Sorry Stiles, just forget it. It's okay. I'll see you later." _And then Danny is standing, shoulders tight and tense and his hands still clenched as he's walks away from Stiles. He walks quickly, and without a backwards glance. The camera zooms and focus' in on his back.

_"Ladies and gentleman, I present to you the mystery of Danny Māhealani."_

[_pause_]

* * *

I should apologise for not being strong enough to go through with slamming on Erica, but I love her too much. I couldn't do it.


End file.
